


Occupational Burnout

by Ahmerst



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: AU, M/M, Minor Character Death, Yakuza AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 03:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11797014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahmerst/pseuds/Ahmerst
Summary: A gift fic commissioned by Sonet_18 for Foxyladycpz. Happy birthday and enjoy!





	Occupational Burnout

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxyladycpz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxyladycpz/gifts).



Aoba always knew his grandma would die. Tae was human, the same as anyone else. And like anyone else, she wouldn’t live forever.

In the end that didn’t make it any easier to accept her death.

It was a slow thing, no sudden heart attack or accident. It started with small bouts of forgetfulness, a glazed over look in her eyes, her usual spritely attitude dimming as the months passed. Aoba resigned from his job at Heibon in order to look after her, taking over the domestic tasks she usually handled. 

When it became hard for her to get out of bed, he stayed beside her. Ren was there too, sitting on the bed, eyes trained on Tae as her chest rose and fell. She didn’t want to go to the hospital, she made that much clear when all this started. She wanted the comfort of her own home, her own bed. Not tubes and needles and a stiff medical gown.

Tae’s passing was as peaceful as anyone could have hoped for. Aoba found her in the morning, still in bed, her eyes closed and expression passive. The only difference from sleep was that she no longed breathed. Aoba stood back as he noticed, afraid that the reality would sink in if he touched her. 

Part of Aoba died with her that day.

He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it felt like his entirety. Each thought he had was weighed down by death and depression, any meaning in his life muted as he grieved. Haga and Yoshie gave their condolences, and even Mizuki brought food and drink in an attempt to cheer Aoba. But nothing filled the emptiness or alleviated his gloom.

The color drained not only from his life, but his hair as well. The vibrant blue faded away, the color leeched away and replaced by white, his ends barely able to hold onto the last dregs of a pale periwinkle. Each look in the mirror was another reminder of what his days had become.

Aoba needed to get away from the house─ from all the memories it held.

He didn’t have clear recollections of the aftermath of Tae’s death. Everything he experienced was through a fog, from packing his things to selling the house. He answered the door for no one but the realtor who gave him a check. Everyone else he locked out of his home, his world. He packed his duffel bag in the dead of the night, tossing in clothes haphazardly and taking a roll of cash. He tucked Ren away last of all, the bag unzipped just enough so that he could peer out of it.

“Where do you plan to go?” Ren asked. For all the flat monotony in his robotic voice, Aoba could swear he heard concern.

“I don’t know,” Aoba said. “Anywhere that isn’t here. I’ll figure it out later.”

‘Anywhere’ turned out to be a midnight ferry to the mainland, the last of the night.

Few others were making the same journey, each of them appearing as downtrodden as Aoba. He kept his eyes averted from their faces, busying himself with the few belongings he’d kept to distract himself. One was a worn journal of his grandma’s, the cover faded and the papers yellowed. A photo stuck out from it like a bookmark, tattered and creased, of him and Koujaku as children.

Most of the entries he didn’t understand, a mix of medical terms and numbers, mentions of experiments. But between the pages he found an envelope, the return address unfamiliar to him. His eyes honed in on the sender, the surname familiar to him.

It was Koujaku’s.

Aoba opened the envelope to find a handwritten letter from Koujaku’s mother. It was filled mostly with pleasantries and small talk, and of what a fine young man Koujaku was becoming. Aoba replaced the letter inside, looking again at the sender’s address. It was from the mainland.

The letter was dated several years back, but Aoba wondered if he'd be able to use it to track down Koujaku.

When the ferry docked, Aoba was the first one off, hugging his coat close as he scouted for anyone out at this time of night.

It wasn’t until he reached a rowdy section of the city that he found others. Below the neon sign of a bar stood a trio of men. They dragged on cigarettes with one hand, held beer bottles in the other. Aoba hesitated to approach them, worrying his lower lip as he debated continuing his search elsewhere.

He didn’t realize they’d noticed him as well until it was too late.

“Oi, over there,” one yelled. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out so late at night?”

“Probably looking for some fun,” a second man said.

Aoba cringed at the assumption, taking one step back.

The third of the group joined the other two as they hastily closed the distance to Aoba with long strides. “We can certainly provide that.”

“We are in no need of such assistance,” came Ren’s voice, his head emerging from the bag.

“That so, little puppy? Maybe if you keep up from having fun, we’ll have to get rid of you.”

Aoba tensed to run, his nose wrinkled in disgust at their words. He reared back as one man lunged for him, arm outstretched to grab Ren.

Someone moved between them, dark as a shadow and twice as fast. Aoba couldn’t see what they did, but he heard it instead. The man’s arm being caught, followed by an agonized yell as it was twisted. The trio scattered in an instant, running from Aoba and the stranger without a second glance back.

“T-thanks,” Aoba said, stunned at the sudden help.

The stranger turned around, face obscured by the darkness of the night. “It’s no trouble. I’s the least I could do for a beautiful─”

The man wavered a moment before finishing.

“─ lady?”

Aoba snorted, waving the man off. “I’m not a girl.”

“My apologies,” the man said, voice grave with embarrassment. 

That was as far as he got before Aoba barked out a laugh, his hand too slow to cover his mouth. 

“No─ it’s okay,” he managed to get out between laughing fits.

The man stood there awkwardly in response, waiting until Aoba’s giggles had left him. Aoba’s eyes began to better adjust to the darkness as his laughter ebbed, the man before him coming into better focus.

There was a striking handsomeness to him, his eyebrows finely arched, his eyes a deep wine color. His features were refined, his skin smooth and framed by dark, glossy hair that fell over one side of his face. A sleek scar ran across his nose, giving him a dangerous air. Aoba looked away to compose himself, his heart giving an extra beat as his brain processed the man’s good looks.

“It’s fine, really,” Aoba said, nostalgia welling within him. “You’re not the first one. There was this guy when I was little... he did it too. I’m used to it by now.”

“I see,” the man said. “And what brings you out here this late at night?”

“I’m looking for a friend,” Aoba said. “Actually, it’s the friend who mistook me for a girl as well.”

“Is he important to you?”

Aoba blinked at the question. The decision to find Koujaku had been sudden, but the intent behind it was meaningful. 

“Yeah, he is. We haven’t seen each other in awhile, but he was always there for me even when my own parents weren’t. I guess you could say he was a hero to me. I’m not sure where he lives now, but I have an old address of his and a photo.”

Aoba reached into his bag to find it, pulling the photo free and showing it to the stranger. 

“He must look older now, but this is back from when we were kids.”

The man leaned in to look at the photo, and Aoba caught the scent of his cologne. It was rich and heady, dusted with tobacco and leather. It made it hard to think.

“I must seem like a total weirdo,” Aoba said, suddenly self conscious. “Looking for a guy I haven’t seen in ages in the middle of the night.”

The man regained his composure, straightening up as he finished looking at the photo.

“Aoba?”

“Huh?” Aoba asked, brow furrowing. “How did you know my name?”

“Aoba, it’s me,” the man said, a shining grin appearing. 

Aoba nearly balked. That smile─ he knew it anywhere. How hadn’t he realized who he’d been speaking to earlier. The red eyes, the dark hair, mistaking him for a woman...

“You hippo!” Aoba said. “What are you doing out here so late at night?”

Koujaku chuckled, wrapping Aoba in a hug. “That’s not important. Did you mean everything you said? That I’m your hero?”

“Don’t you dare tease me,” Aoba said. “You should be grateful I spoke so highly of you.”

Aoba wanted to grumble on, but let himself enjoy the embrace as he returned Koujaku’s hug. Koujaku had grown much taller, stronger. He wasn’t the child Aoba remembered, but a striking adult now. But even after all these years, Aoba had nothing but the utmost adoration and respect for him.

There was a change in him now, though. One Aoba couldn’t entirely point out.

The Koujaku he knew was quick to defend others. This had been different though─ Koujaku hadn’t tried to warn those men off. He’d resorted to violence as the first step. He’d been evasive about why he was here to begin with, dwelling in the shady part of the city where people only went when they were up to no good.

“Aoba,” Koujaku said, ending the hug. “It’s been too long. You must be brave to come out here, nothing like the scared little mouse you used to be. Did Tae finally toughen you up? How is she?”

The tears were nigh instantaneous, spilling down Aoba’s cheeks as he was reminded of why he’d left his home to begin with.

“She’s dead,” Aoba said, unable to summon the energy to think of a less blunt explanation.

Koujaku’s grin broke, his lips becoming a grim line.

“I’m so sorry,” he said sympathetically. “I lost my mother a few years back─ if there’s anything I can do─”

Aoba shook his head quickly, bringing up his hands to wipe away his tears before Koujaku could. “I don’t want to think about it. It’s late and I’m tired and... can we talk about this later? I need to find a hotel for the night.”

“A hotel? Nonsense. You can stay with me.”

Aoba waved Koujaku off, not wanting to impose. On his hand landed a raindrop, and by the time he examined the droplet, several others had joined it. Overhead, a flash of lightning heralded an oncoming storm.

“Aoba, I insist,” Koujaku pressed, reaching out to gently grab at Aoba’s wrist. “I don’t want you out here wandering around in the rain.”

Aoba acquiesced with a single nod, rain starting to pepper his clothes as he let Koujaku lead him along. Around the corner was a shiny black limo, the windows tinted to match the exterior. When Koujaku opened the door, Aoba stood there in stunned silence.

“Are you trying to get soaked?” Koujaku asked.

“This is your car?” Aoba balked.

“Don’t act so surprised,” Koujaku said. “I’ve made something of myself.”

Aoba slipped into the back of the limo, cringing as he got water on the leather seats. Koujaku slid in next, closing the door behind him and seating himself next to Aoba. The luxury of the car left Aoba feeling out of place and antsy. Koujaku had been a simple child, one whose ambitions were nothing beyond protecting others.

But for him to become this high roller, out late at night, a limo and chauffer at his beck and call... it worried Aoba.

“What is it you do now?” Aoba asked, keeping his tone even and casual.

“Nothing too exciting. Family business.”

Aoba looked at Koujaku, waiting for more of an answer.

“Textile trade,” Koujaku said vaguely. “Kimono sales.”

When it became apparent that was the extent of what Koujaku was willing to divulge, Aoba dropped the subject. 

The neighborhood they were driven to was sparsely populated, the traditional house Koujaku lived in set far back from the road, cordoned off by a security gate that slid open at their approach. Rain bounced off the sloped and tiled roof, a lantern near the door the single light to greet them when they exited the car.

Aoba sheepishly entered after Koujaku, toeing off his water-logged shoes, afraid to enter for fear of trailing water on the wooden flooring. He stood in the foyer, keeping one hand on his duffel bag where Ren rested inside.

“I’ll get you something to wear,” Koujaku said, disappearing down a hallway for a moment before returning with a robe and towel folded over his arm.

Now that they were indoors, Aoba could see Koujaku clearly for the first time. He still had a roguish charm to his looks, a gleam in his eyes. That much Aoba recognized, but Koujaku’s clothing had changed. Gone was the casual red yukata he’d worn in his youth, replaced now by a well-fitted suit.

The cut of it was flattering, clearly tailored. The fabric itself was a dark navy that bordered on black, the perfect compliment to Koujaku’s hair. The dress shirt beneath it matched the same red of his eyes, an almost ruby tone in the light. The silken tie at his neck was perfectly spotless.

The sight of him made Aoba’s heart flutter, and he quickly looked to the towel and robe to distract himself.

“The bathroom is down the hall and on the left,” Koujaku said. “The bedroom is next to it.”

Aoba nodded in thanks as he made his way to the bathroom. It was more opulent than any he’d been in, the floor tiled with marble, everything down to the faucet polished to a shine. The tap of the oversized bath was already running, steaming hot water beginning to fill it.

Aoba stripped off his clothes and set them aside before slipping into the tub, sighing happily as the water washed over him and warmed his body. He picked over the soaps and shampoos that sat on the rim, each one boasting claims more miraculous than the one before. He spent his time washing up thoroughly, leaving the water only when it had grown tepid.

He toweled off and dressed himself, the robe Koujaku had given him light and cottony, white as summer clouds and accented with a crimson red hem. Aoba paused to admire it, chastising himself for doubting Koujaku’s truthfulness about his family business. After hanging his clothes over the side of the tub to let them dry, he left the bathroom, going next door to the bedroom.

A bedroom that already had an occupant.

Koujaku, specifically. In a red robe that instantly reminded Aoba of their childhood.

“O-oh, sorry,” Aoba said, backing out of the room. “I didn’t know this was yours.”

Koujaku looked up from where he stood, fluffing a pillow at the head of the bed. “Don’t be sorry. I told you to sleep in here.”

Aoba rubbed his own arm. “So this is your guest room?”

“No, it’s my room,” Koujaku said, matter-of-factly. “We’ve shared a bed before. Is it that strange to you now?”

Aoba shrugged, pulling back the covers and getting under them. “No, it’s fine. Just not what I expected, I guess.”

When Koujaku didn’t join him, Aoba looked over to see Koujaku watching him. His expression had a soft fondness to it, like he was taking Aoba in for the first time.

“That outfit suits you,” Koujaku said. “The white goes well with your hair. An interesting change, I must admit. I remember when you were so shy about having anyone touch it, and now you show up with such a wild style. It must have taken a long time to lighten it.”

Aoba tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“You’re telling me it happened on its own?” Koujaku asked, getting under the covers at last.

The grief came racing back when Aoba opened his mouth to explain. “I don’t know why it happened. After Granny died─ I got so sad. I couldn’t think or eat or sleep. I couldn’t bother to take care of myself. Then one day I looked in the mirror and it was like this.”

It was all Aoba could do to hold himself together when Koujaku reached out, his fingers skimming over the damp strands of hair. When the tears bubbled over, Koujaku let Aoba cry with abandon, gathering Aoba to his chest, petting and hushing him. Koujaku murmured soft words to soothe, drawing on his experiences from their childhood, his voice calm and concerned.

By the time Aoba had finished, his eyes were puffy and stinging, too heavy to open, his head aching with each breath. He clung to Koujaku’s robe, hands gripping the fabric as he at last found he didn’t feel alone and isolated for the first time since his grandmother’s passing.

\---

The light of late morning was filtering into the bedroom when Aoba woke, the spot on the bed next to him empty and cold. He sat up with a yawn, rubbing at his temple to try and erase the residual pain from his bout of crying the night before. On the bedside table sat a tall glass of water, one that Aoba immediately chugged to temper the dryness in his throat.

When he rose from bed, he found a kimono laid out at the base of the covers. He dressed himself in it, peeking curiously out into the hallway for signs of life. When he picked up on the scent of food, he followed it until he found himself in the kitchen, Koujaku at the stove.

“I never knew you could cook,” Aoba said, joining Koujaku at the stove.

When he looked down, he saw a mash-up of eggs and vegetables, none of which were immediately recognizable to him. Or particularly good-looking.

“Or maybe you can’t cook,” Aoba said, nudging Koujaku before going to the fridge. 

“I do well enough for myself,” Koujaku insisted.

“I’m not so sure about that," Aoba said as he looked at the fridge’s contents.

Inside was an array of take out boxes and bottles of alcohol. What little produce there was looked wilted and dull, hardly edible.

“I’ve been busy lately," Koujaku said, as though that explained everything. 

A toaster dinged beside him, the bread faintly burnt. 

“Sure seems like it," Aoba said, tutting as he replaced the burnt bread with fresh slices. “Go set the table, I’ll finish up here."

Koujaku relinquished his control of the stove, retreating to the drawers to pull out silverware and plates. Aoba managed to salvage the eggs and vegetables, turning them into a hearty scrambled that he served with buttered toast. Koujaku looked half-stunned at what was set before him, disbelief carrying into his voice as he spoke.

“Since when do you cook?"

Aoba shrugged as he sat. “I’ve done a little here and there, nothing too fancy. But it’s better than fast food and booze."

“I can’t argue with that," Koujaku said, his expression turning pleasant as he began to eat.

He looked like he’d gotten up much earlier than Aoba, his hair already combed and sleek, his button-up shirt free of wrinkles and with the sleeves rolled up. For as put-together as he was, there was an unmistakable weariness about him as well. The circles under his eyes were so intense as to nearly look bruised, and when he wasn’t looking at Aoba there was a touch of coldness to his gaze.

“Do you work today?" Aoba asked.

“I do," Koujaku responded. “But you can stay here while I’m out.”

“No, it’s alright. I really do need to look for a hotel or something, and I’m sure I’ll have more luck now that it’s light out."

“I’m starting to think you want to avoid me," Koujaku teased. “Trying to get away last night, now acting like you can’t stay."

“I don’t want to freeload, alright? If you let me pay, then I’ll stay."

“Deal. But I don’t want you to pay in money. I have enough of that.”

“Then how am I supposed to pay?”

“Be my housewife.”

Aoba nearly choked on his breakfast. “Your housewife?”

“You’ve seen the state of my fridge, and it’s only a matter of time before you spot all the dirt. Do you want a hard-working man like me to live this way?”

“When you put it that what, I guess I have to choice,” Aoba said. “Someone has to keep this place in order.”

“Great. I’ll see you at dinner,” Koujaku said, finishing his breakfast and putting his dish in the sink. “Spare keys are by the door if you need them.”

He was gone in a minute, shrugging on his suit jacket and stepping into a pair of Oxfords before he was out the door. 

Aoba shook his head at Koujaku’s hasty escape, getting up himself and rinsing the dishes off. He stood back once he was done, hands on his hips as he inspected the kitchen. Upon further review, he could see the collecting dirt that Koujaku had mentioned, along with a dust bunny that peeked from beneath the fridge.

He went to the closet to pull out what few cleaning supplies Koujaku had, most of them appearing untouched. Aoba tied back his hair and set to work, attacking any grime he saw hiding in corners and mopping floors until they sparkled. He moved from room to room, each one grandiose and over the top, though showing no sign of ever having been lived in.

Except the office.

While there was the odd bit of dust, the desk was littered with stray papers, the rug beneath the rolling chair worn from the wheels moving against it. Aoba cast a curious eye at the papers, looking them over for information. They were nothing but spread sheets of numbers, the yen symbol usually prefacing most rows. A name was written here or there, none of which were familiar to him.

His interest piqued, Aoba tried a desk drawer to look for something more understandable.

It was locked.

The second and third drawers he tried were locked as well. For someone who lived alone, Koujaku had intense security. Aoba wondered what business secrets he could be keeping.

He put it out of his mind as he finished cleaning, washing his hands before dressing for errands. He grabbed the spare keys, walking to a nearby market for groceries. By the time he’d returned home it was late afternoon, the bags he brought back laden with fresh produce and fish, along with a handful of seasonings.

Before long he had a pan on the stove, oil sizzling away as he chopped vegetables. He was careful with each ingredient as he made curry, simmering the vegetables as he cooked the rice, humming to himself in excitement when the sun began to set. He laid out dishes and silverware on the table in preparation, preparing a spot for himself and Koujaku.

The excitement started to wane as sunset turned to twilight, and from twilight, night. Worry took its place instead. What was taking Koujaku so long? Had something happened? Was he hurt? Aoba cursed himself for not getting Koujaku’s number as he paced the floor anxiously, checking the clock every five minutes.

When his feet began to ache, he took to sitting on the couch, arms folded across his chest. Time continued to drag on, weighing heavy on his eyelids until he found himself letting them close. He dozed off, his sleep light and fitful until he heard a noise.

The unlocking of a door.

Aoba sprang to his feet at the sound, hurrying to the front door to find Koujaku opening it. He looked abashed and tired, creeping into the house as quietly as possible.

“Where have you been?” Aoba asked, one eye on the clock. It was well past midnight.

“I got caught up at the office,” Koujaku said. “I meant to be home sooner.”

“And you couldn’t call? I was worried about you.”

“It won’t happen again,” Koujaku promised, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up. He wrapped Aoba in an apologetic hug.

Aoba sniffed once, then twice. Something wasn’t right.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Just to take the edge off.”

“Caught at the office my ass,” Aoba grumbled. “I bet you were partying it up while I was toiling away at the stove.”

Aoba pushed at Koujaku lightly, freeing himself from the hug. He found Koujaku’s expression full of honest remorse, his lips curved downward. Along his jaw ran a spot a purple, a blossoming bruise not yet in full bloom.

“How did you get that?” Aoba asked, leaning in for a closer look.

It was Koujaku’s turn to move away. “It’s nothing. I was being clusmy.”

Aoba frowned as Koujaku passed him, alcohol still coming off his breath, an undernote of tobacco accompanying it.

“You should be more careful,” Aoba tutted, follwing Koujaku to the kitchen.

“You should see the other guy.”

“Don’t joke like that.”

Koujaku paused in the middle of ladling his bowl with curry, a flash of surprise in his eyes before it faded to a cool gaze. “Right, a joke.”

There was a tension to dinner that set Aoba on edge. The food was cold, and while Koujaku paid his compliments to the quality, his voice was distant, his thoughts on something else. Aoba rinsed the dishes in silence once they were done, turning around to find an empty kitchen when he was finished. 

Aoba retired to Koujaku’s bedroom, changing into his sleeping robe and getting into bed. Koujaku joined him soon after, hair still damp from showering, the acrid scent of his previous activities replaced by a musky bodywash. While he said nothing, from beneath the covers Aoba felt fingertips brushing against his palm, Koujaku’s hand soon wrapping around his.

A sense of immediate comfort washed over Aoba as he squeezed Koujaku’s hand. After all these years, the simple gesture still soothed him, and the sleep that came over this time was peaceful.

\---

Koujaku’s hand was still clasping his when Aoba woke. Aoba smiled to himself, though it drained away once he opened his eyes to find Koujaku looking at him.

“W-what is it?” Aoba asked, self conscious. “Was I sleep talking?”

“No. I was just thinking of when we were little. You were so small and adorable then.”

“Then what am I now?”

“Grown,” Koujaku said. “Grown and adorable.”

“I’m not adorable,” Aoba argued. “I’m handsome.”

“That’s a given,” Koujaku said.

The tips of Aoba’s ears heated at the compliment. 

“Idiot, don’t think I’ll forgive you for last night because you’re trying to flatter me.”

“I’m hurt you would think I’m trying to butter you up,” Koujaku said, tone light. “Will a day out make up for it?”

Aoba pretended to hesitate, all the while the word ‘yes’ wanting to jump from his throat.

“I guess,” he settled on saying, unable to repress a smile when he saw Koujaku’s immediate grin.

\---

Aoba wasn’t entirely sure what a ‘day out’ was comprised of, but he wasn’t against it starting with a nice brunch outside an upscale cafe. Koujaku seemed like an entirely new person from the night before, cheerier and at ease, the only reminder of the person he was last night the remaining bruise on his jaw.

Aoba chowed down on French toast and orange juice as he made idle conversation with Koujaku, touching lightly on what they’d been up to over the years. Aoba went into his job at the junk shop, the routine he had, the odd customers that cropped up. But the information Koujaku gave was sparse and vague, never mentioning names or locations.

They were nearly done eating when Koujaku looked past Aoba’s shoulder, his expression turning dour. Before Aoba had a chance to ask if something was wrong, he heard two voices behind him.

“Oi, boss. Got yourself another lady friend?” the first asked.

“Look at you, a new girl every other day. You’ll have to teach us your tricks sometime,” the second said.

Aoba turned his head to see two men approaching them, both wearing suits reminiscent of Koujaku’s.

“Who are they?” Aoba murmured.

“Leaving, if they know what’s good for them,” Koujaku growled, shooting the men a dark look.

It took them a moment to get the message, their steps halting before they cleared their throats, mumbling out an apology for the intrusion. Their escape was hasty and sheepish.

“You have a girlfriend?” Aoba asked once they were alone. Something twisted in his heart, cold and jealous.

“It’s nothing like that,” Koujaku said. “There’s a difference between seeing girls and having a girlfriend.”

“And what exactly is that?”

Koujaku pulled at the collar of his shirt, averting his gaze as he considered his words wisely. “The former is a physical thing. The latter is emotional.”

“So you’re not seeing anyone right now?”

Koujaku snorted. “Like I have the time. What’s it matter to you, anyway?”

“Just curious,” Aoba said. 

It wasn’t a lie. He was curious. Although he didn’t want to admit to himself why.

The longer he was around Koujaku, the more he felt old feelings coming to life. The childhood crush he’d held in his youth was returning, the butterflies from years ago fluttering in his stomach. Koujaku was still the kind and caring person he’d been, his smile filling Aoba with the same happiness as before.

His handsome looks didn’t hurt, either.

“Aoba?” Koujaku asked, pulling Aoba back to the present.

“Hm?”

“I asked if you were ready to go.”

“Oh, sure,” Aoba said. “I’m good when you are.”

\---

Spending time with Koujaku felt inherently right. Like something he’d been meant to do all his life, their steps synching up without effort. When their hands brushed, it sent an electric current up Aoba’s spine, his fingers twitching in anticipation. Part of him wanted to reach out and grasp Koujaku’s hand, but he shied away each time he thought to do so.

That, and each step of the way led them to another person who appeared to spot them immediately. Not they they approached in the same manner of the men from brunch. Instead they turned away, pretending to busy themselves. Shopkeepers would turn their signs to ‘closed’ while others would cross the street to avoid Koujaku. 

“What’s with these people?” Aoba asked, watching a women hurrying away with her child after seeing them.

“Who knows,” Koujaku said airily. 

“It’s like we’re outcasts,” Aoba murmured, glancing around. The street was nearly empty, aside from a handful of business men.

They were dressed similar to Koujaku, though none had quite his style. Their gazes held a certain confidence, and one even gave a silent nod to Koujaku in passing.

Aoba stopped in his tracks.

“It’s not us,” he said. “It’s you. People are avoiding you, aren’t they?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then don’t treat me like a child. This isn’t normal─ everyone is scared of you. Everyone except those men. Who are they?”

Koujaku’s voice was stone when he spoke, smooth and cold. “Work associates.”

Aoba frowned. What about the fabric industry could make people so afraid? He tried not to let the question consume him as they walked, wanting instead to enjoy the moment for what it was. He shook his head to clear it, standing up straight as he went back to walking. His mood was soon improved when Koujaku’s shoulder brushed against his, lingering for a moment before they were separated again.

He didn’t want to read into it, but that was easier said than done when he caught Koujaku glancing at him from the corner of his eyes.

The old Koujaku was still alive, but there was a newness to him as well. A side both frightening and intriguing. One that Aoba wanted to know more about. 

\---

Koujaku and Aoba’s days together settled into a steady routine. 

The alarm would wake them both at the crack of dawn, signaling for Koujaku to shower, and for Aoba to start breakfast. He’d try his hand at something new every morning, from oatmeal to crepes, though Koujaku claimed to enjoy each meal as much as the last. Aoba would wish Koujaku luck for the day to come, seeing him off with a quick hug─ though one he was careful not to let last too long.

Aoba would spend his day carrying out simple tasks and chores, mopping and sweeping, dusting light fixtures and making the bed. Each time he did it he reminded himself to ask about staying in a guest room, but each evening he talked himself out of it. Being close to Koujaku was nice, and he savored their time together.

They spent their evenings in the company of one another, chatting about nothing and everything, often watching moves of old in black and white as they cozied up on the couch. Koujaku would have one hand occupied by a wine glass, his other arm casually draped over Aoba’s shoulders.

The one thing that changed was when Koujaku got home. At first he was punctual, never arriving later than sunset. But as the days grew longer, as did his time away. He kept away into the late hours of the night, sometimes staying out until the sun was rising. He never made mention of where he’d been, or what he’d done.

But Aoba could smell it on him.

The alcohol, the tobacco─ he reeked of it. Aoba sat on his concerns, worrying silently over Koujaku’s behaviors. The stress of work must have been too much of him. Aoba did his best to ease Koujaku’s worries, continuing on cooking for him, packing him lunch and looking after the house. Things would get better─ they had to.

That was what Aoba told himself up until he found the blood.

He thought it was nothing more than a dark stain on an even darker jacket, one that he could scrub out with cold water and soap. But as he ran it under the tap, the water that drained into the sink had a rusted tinge to it. He watched it swirl down the drain, a cold dread flooding him when he worked his fingers into the stain.

They came away lightly stained with the same color, the iron tang of blood on them.

Bile rose in Aoba’s throat as he dropped the jacket, turning the water to a near scalding temperature as he rinsed his hands and left the bathroom, the jacket still in the sink. He spent his afternoon pacing, wondering whose blood that was. A stranger? Koujaku’s? How would he bring it up?

By nightfall he was still reeling, foot tapping as he waited by the door until it opened.

The person that entered was Koujaku and a stranger all at once. Physically, Aoba knew the person before him was Koujaku. The dark hair and stylish suit, strong shoulders and sharp shoes. But the aura, the energy, it was all wrong.

Koujaku was hunched over as he entered, radiating tension. Each step he took was as labored as his breath, sweat beading on his skin from exertion.

“Koujaku, what’s wrong?” Aoba asked, his earlier fear replaced by something entirely more vivid. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Koujaku said, the words short and forced. 

“You’re not fine,” Aoba said, rushing to Koujaku’s side to support him.

Aoba put all his strength into helping Koujaku to the bedroom, fretting when they finally made it only for Koujaku to collapse on the mattress.

“Stay here, I’ll call the doctor,” Aoba said.

He went to move away, but Koujaku’s hand reached out to grab him, nails biting into Aoba’s skin.

“Don’t. I’ll be okay.”

“You look like roadkill,” Aoba said. “I can’t stand by and do nothing.”

“Then stay with me.”

Aoba huffed as he looked down at Koujaku. It was impossible to refuse him like this, weak and ailing, one hand clutching at half his face. Aoba could smell tobacco and alcohol on Koujaku again, tinged with something darker and more bitter.

Gun powder?

“If I stay... you have to be honest with me,” Aoba said, taking a seat on the bed.

“About what?”

“About everything. I’m not buying this whole deal about working with fabric. People are scared of you, and I found blood on your clothes today. Now you come home like─ like this─” Aoba said, struggling not to choke up.

“What I do isn’t important,” Koujaku said, his eyes glazed over with pain. “It would only scare you.”

“I’m scared now, Koujaku. And the more you hide things, the scarier it is.”

“It’ll be worse if you know. You’re brave now, but I know better. You’ll run the second you find out.”

Anger prickled beneath Aoba’s skin at Koujaku’s words.

“I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m not afraid of everything, and for once you don’t need to save me from anything. Let me protect you for once, okay?”

A clarity reentered Koujaku’s eyes as he looked at Aoba. He didn’t speak, but that was better than outright refusal.

“I haven’t exactly been an angel either,” Aoba admitted. I got kind of crazy there for awhile, running with the wrong crowds, getting up to the wrong things. I never considered the stress it put on Granny until she wound up getting an ulcer from it. Even after I cleaned my act up, it still gave her trouble. I can’t help but think if I’d behaved she’d still be here.”

Aoba cut himself off for a moment to breathe, blinking back tears.

“I know I can’t bring her back by leading a good life, but I’m doing it anyway, you know? She wouldn’t want me to live my life hiding from everyone and being alone. And I know she wouldn’t want that for you, either. So I’m not going to run away. We can get through this together.”

Aoba looked down to find Koujaku’s breathing more even, his hand no longer clutching at his face, but instead pushing the hair back. A black tattoo darkened the skin, starting above his brow and moving down his cheek. He looked at Aoba, lips thin as he waited for a reaction.

“What is this?” Aoba asked, unthinkingly reaching out, tracing a fingertip along the mark.

“A burden,” Koujaku said, sitting up. “A curse.”

Aoba cocked his head as he inspected it closer. He’d seen people with tattoos in his youth, of colorful figures or crude phrases. But this was neatly lined, done by a skilled and steady hand.

“How long have you had this?”

“Too long,” Koujaku said bitterly. “And at my father’s insistence.”

Aoba placed a hand over Koujaku’s. “That’s terrible, he shouldn’t have done that.”

“He’s done worse,” Koujaku said flatly. “There’s not a human bone in his body.”

“Is he why you’re out so late? Are you working for him?”

Koujaku nodded. 

”Why?”

“It started with him threatening my mother. It was what I had to do, even after she passed. It was all there was for me.”

Aoba frowned. “You don’t have to live like this.”

Koujaku blinked, like the idea had never struck him. He’d been taught this was his life, a single path he couldn’t stray from.

“It’s not that easy, Aoba. He used my mother’s safety against me before. He’d do the same thing with you next.”

“Why me?”

“Because you matter to me.”

Aoba’s cheeks reddened at the admission. Deep down it wasn’t a surprise, but it was something he’d never allowed himself to believe at a conscious level. For all their closeness in childhood, he worried now that something would be different─ the separation changing them both too much to ever be the same.

But he’d been wrong to worry. Koujaku was the same, though taller now. And more attractive. He still had the same drive to protect, despite being forced into a terrible line of work.

“You matter to me too, but hiding the truth hurts us both. Your dad will find out eventually, and then what? You can’t protect me forever.”

Koujaku’s eyebrows knit in frustration as he considered the options. His face said there weren’t many. 

“Your mother isn’t here anymore. Your father can’t use her to hurt you. You can leave, Koujaku. We can leave.”

Aoba placed his hand over Koujaku’s, giving a caring squeeze as he waited for a response.

“I don’t know what to do,” Koujaku finally said.

“Do what you want. Don’t worry about what your dad or anyone else wants.”

“But I worry about what you want.”

“I─ well,” Aoba stuttered, taken off guard by the response. “I want... whatever makes you happy, okay? Because being here with you after everything that’s happened has made me happy. You deserve the same.”

Koujaku looked down at Aoba’s hand, considering his words carefully.

“And if being with you is what I want? If that’s what makes me happy?”

“Oh,” was Aoba’s instant reaction, dumbfounded.

Koujaku looked stricken.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “That sounded weird, didn’t it? I didn’t mean to─”

“I want to be with you too,” Aoba cut in, his pulse so loud in his own ears it seemed to drown out his voice.

“You do?” Koujaku asked.

Aoba nodded. “Of course I do, you hippo. I came here looking for you, remember? I could’ve left a long time ago if all I wanted was some kind of vacation.”

Koujaku swallowed, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “I didn’t entirely mean I just want to be around you. I want to be with you.”

“And I said I wanted to be with you too,” Aoba said, careful with the words as he spoke them, afraid he’d stammer. “Whatever that means.”

They both took a long moment to look at one another, each afraid to make the first move, the first overture. The hair on the back of Aoba’s neck rose with anticipation, his beat of his heart hard against his chest. When Koujaku leaned in, Aoba caught a note of his cologne beneath the alcohol and smoke, heady and rich.

The ensuing kiss was tentative, hardly more than a cursory peck. Koujaku pulled back at once, studying Aoba for a reaction.

Aoba stared.

“That’s it?” he asked. “I thought we were having a moment here, then you go kissing me like... that. Weak.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay with it,” Koujaku said hastily.

“We sleep in the same bed,” Aoba said. “We cuddle up on the couch. Of course I’m okay with kissing.”

Urged on by Aoba’s teasing, Koujaku brought a hand up to cup Aoba’s face. The next kiss was lingering and soft, their lips adjusting to one another. Aoba relaxed into Koujaku’s touch, giving into the kiss. He enjoyed the moment for what it was, here and present. No wallowing in the past or worrying about the future. 

Any reservations Koujaku held before were dwindling, his tongue tracing its way along Aoba’s bottom lip before pressing farther. Aoba stifled a soft moan, body yielding as Koujaku eased him back onto the mattress. The weight of Koujaku’s body against him made an ache flair within him, a need for even more closeness. 

“About time,” Aoba murmured when Koujaku’s lips left his, though only to trail kisses along Aoba’s jaw. “And here I thought you were only interested in women.”

Koujaku paused, his warm breath flickering over Aoba’s neck. “The only person you wouldn’t catch the eye of is a blind man.”

Aoba flustered. He’d cottoned on that Koujaku was a ladies’ man, but he considered himself someone immune to charm.

Then again, he also considered himself practiced in self control. The rate of his heartbeat told him otherwise. Not that he minded. He’d been so closed off from the world, to any interaction, that he was thirsty for physicality. He sighed and tipped his head back as Koujaku’s hands moved over his yukata, deftly parting it and exposing Aoba’s skin.

When Koujaku moved to take Aoba’s underwear off, Aoba swatted at his hand. 

“Don’t think you can get away with keeping your clothes on,” Aoba said. “It’ll be weird if I’m the only one.”

Koujaku chuckled before loosening his tie, pulling it from his neck and tossing it aside. Aoba fumbled with the buttons of Koujaku’s dress shirt, his fingers clumsily pulling at them until Koujaku took over. 

Koujaku had seen plenty of barechested men, but the sight of Koujaku was different. The well-defined musculature of his arm was nearly swallowed up by an expansive tattoo, the artwork traveling down his chest and stomach before disappearing beyond his hip. Accompanying the tattoo was an array of scars.

There were those that stood out from his skin, stark and red, only freshly healed. But there were older ones as well, faded pinks stretched over his skin, barely visible. The odd bruise spotted his skin here and there in varying stages of healing, from sickly yellows to rich purples. It quelled Aoba’s lust as he observed them, wondering where each came from.

“Are all those from your job?” Aoba asked.

“Comes with the territory,” Koujaku said, shrugging off Aoba’s concern.

Aoba let the subject drop as Koujaku’s hands made their way down his body, moving over Aoba’s sides, thumbs hooking into the elastic of Aoba’s underwear before tugging them down. Aoba gasped softly as he was exposed, his cock half hard and his body needy for more. His hips rolled up as Koujaku’s fingers wrapped loosely around Aoba’s cock, the skin of his palm rougher than Aoba expected.

Koujaku’s strokes were unpracticed and clumsy at first, his lack of experience in this arena showing. Aoba moved to meet his touch, setting a steady rhythm. But when nothing progressed beyond that, Aoba found himself looking to Koujaku. He received a not-entirely-confident look in return.

“This is what you want, right?” Koujaku asked.

“Well, it’s not a bad start,” Aoba said. “But I could go for more.”

Koujaku stared, a deer in the headlights. Aoba cleared his throat, waiting for Koujaku to get it. Koujaku’s face didn’t change.

“Don’t tell me a guy like you doesn’t have some help on hand,” Aoba said, rolling onto his side and reaching for Koujaku’s nightstand.

He opened the drawer to find the usual assortment of things. A pen and pad of paper, chapstick and a crumpled receipt─ and then, what he was looking for.

Lube.

“Oh,” Koujaku said, finally getting understanding.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“Not with someone like you, no,” Koujaku said. Aoba could hear the unsure waver that touched his voice

This was about more than inexperience. This was about overthinking it.

“I’ll show you what to do,” Aoba said, gently moving Koujaku’s hand away.

It was Aoba’s turn to start overthinking things as he drizzled lube on two of his fingers. He capped the bottle and set it aside before spreading his legs, eyes focused on the ceiling to distract himself from being watched. He breathed deeply as he slipped one finger into himself, the lube providing a smooth entrance.

He crooked his finger then, the stimulation causing precum to bead at the head of his cock. The second finger he added too soon, a spike of discomfort mixed with the pleasure, fading as he scissored his fingers carefully. Even without looking, he could sense Koujaku’s eyes on him, taking in every movement, the sound of his breath shallowing with excitement.

By the time Aoba had loosened himself up to make the in and out of his fingers comfortable, his own breath had reached a similar pitch.

“Your turn,” Aoba said, handing the lube to Koujaku.

Aoba watched with a growing hunger as Koujaku finished disrobing, lubing up his already-hard cock with poorly-hidden eagerness. He settled himself between Aoba’s legs, taking one ankle and hooking it over his shoulder. He held it there for leverage, his other hand aligning his cock with Aoba’s hole.

The first roll of Koujaku’s hips was steady and slow, letting Aoba adjust to him. Aoba’s stomach hollowed as his hands twisted in the sheets, seeking purchase. Despite their original awkwardness, the settling of their bodies together was natural and effortless. Aoba shuddered when Koujaku pulled out, only to let out a shuddering moan when Koujaku entered again.

The pace Koujaku set languid at first, exploratory and unhurried. But as they moved together, his pace began to quicken. His grip on Aoba’s ankle tightened, biting into the skin enough to sting. Aoba cried out at a particularly rough thrust, back arching before he reached down to stroke himself.

He was lost in the sensation, any semblance of control long gone as he gave up to his instincts. Words and thought left him, only the building pleasure in his stomach and the heat in his veins remaining. He relished each thrust as he was fucked deeply, timing his strokes with Koujaku’s thrusts. When he came, it was with a hitched moan, cum spilling over his hand and stomach, his skin dusted with sweat from exertion.

Koujaku wasn’t far behind, hips stilling after a final thrust. His body held steady for a moment as he came in Aoba, riding out the last of his climax before slowly pulling out. Aoba looked up to see Koujaku’s eyes still on him. Sweat matted Koujaku’s flyaway hairs to his face, his cheeks a healthy color as he grinned. He laid down on the bed next to Aoba, reaching out to brush Aoba’s bangs from his eyes before he dropped his hand to take Aoba’s in his, squeezing it affectionately. 

“How was it?” Koujaku asked, sounding like he already knew the answer.

“Hm, I’m not sure,” Aoba said coyly. “I think I may need another go before I decide.”

\---

The next morning Aoba woke enjoyably sore, his body marked with love nips and burgeoning bruises. Morning-light warmed the covers and kept his eyes from staying closed. He yawned and rolled over to sprawl on the bed, finding Koujaku there instead of an empty space.

“Morning,” Koujaku said, wrapping his arms around Aoba.

“Going in late today?” Aoba asked, kissing the tip of Koujaku’s nose.

“Koujaku is not scheduled for work today, as it is Saturday,” came a deep voice from beside the bed.

Aoba nearly squawked as he pulled out of Koujaku’s hold, stealing most of the sheets to cover himself. From the floor, he saw Ren looking up at him.

“Can’t we get some privacy?” Aoba asked.

Koujaku sat up, looking over the side of his bed. “It’s just a robot, there’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“He’s more than a robot,” Aoba insisted. 

“As an allMATE, I am technically a robot,” Ren said.

“Okay, smarty pants. Technically you’re a robot,” Aoba admitted. “But most robots don’t have a vested interest in their owner’s life.”

“It is within my programming,” Ren said.

“I see, a babysitter,” Koujaku commented.

“He’s not my babysitter! He’s more like... I don’t know. A personal assistant, but cuter.”

Koujaku nodded, studying Ren. “I’ve been thinking of getting an allMATE myself.”

“You could get one today,” Aoba said. “There’s a shop not too far from here that sells them. I’ll help you pick one out.”

\---

The shop Aoba recalled was bustling with weekend traffic, young and old alike poring over the various models, reading their specs, questioning their capabilities. Aoba held Ren under one arm to keep him from being trampled on, though it didn’t stop children from trying to reach out and pet him.

“Ren’s nice, but I need something a little more intimidating,” Koujaku said, pausing to look at a python.

“At least get something with speech capabilities,” Aoba said, nudging Koujaku away from the snake. “And isn’t a giant noodle."

They browsed the birds next. Macaws were too flashy, Koujaku decided. He didn’t want competition in the looks department. A vulture was morbid, and even a raven bordered on the grim. He needed something smaller, more agile.

“How about this?” Aoba asked, picking up a small red sparrow. “It’s a little plain, but─”

“Big words coming from someone with white hair,” the sparrow chirped.

“O─oh, sorry─”

“You’ll be sorry, alright.”

“I didn’t know you were on,” Aoba said. “You don’t have to be so rude.”

“You’re the one picking me up without asking. Pretty rude, don’t ya think?”

Aoba placed the sparrow back down, folding his arms over his chest. “The default personality is kind of rotten, but I’m sure we could change it.”

“Let’s not be too hasty,” Koujaku said, offering his hand to the sparrow. It gave him a cursory once over before climbing onto his hand. “I like a little attitude.”

“There’s a difference between attitude and being a jerk,” Aoba said.

“You were the one to call him plain first,” Koujaku pointed out.

“Exactly,” the sparrow added. “Don’t dish it if you can’t take it.”

Koujaku chuckled to himself, holding the sparrow up to eye-level to examine it more closely. “I think I’ll take this one.”

The only thing stranger than seeing Koujaku with a tiny, crass bird, was watching Koujaku pick out clothes for the bird. Being so small, the options were limited. Koujaku settled on a miniscule pair of sandals and a prayer bead bracelet that was more suited to being a necklace. Aoba wished Koujaku would have picked a muzzle.

“I can’t believe you didn’t go with something more... elegant,” Aoba said on the ride home.

Even Koujaku’s chauffeur had given them a sideways look when he spotted the little bird.

“You just don’t understand class,” the bird said.

“Beni, Aoba, play nice,” Koujaku chided lightly. 

“I’m plenty nice,” Aoba said, running his hands through Ren’s fur. Ren, who was good and polite and kind.

But in spite of Beni’s attitude, Aoba found himself grateful. At least there’d be someone to look over Koujaku while he was away at work.

\---

Aoba’s gratitude drained away the next morning, his Sunday sleep-in pierced by loud chirps as Beni’s alarm went off. Aoba hid his head under the pillow, one hand swatting blindly when Beni dove in to peck at him.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” Aoba groaned.

“Beni, that’s enough,” Koujaku said around a yawn, the chirping stopping immediately. Aoba heard Koujaku move closer in the silence, felt the shifting of the covers and the tug of the pillow as it was pulled away. In place of the pillow, Koujaku’s lips pressed against his forehead. “The real cruel and unusual punishment would be leaving you.”

“Nice try, Casanova. You’re not off the hook,” Aoba said.

It wasn’t true. Koujaku was entirely off the hook after those words.

Koujaku seemed to know as much, snaking his arms around Aoba to hold him close, no further apology leaving his lips. The morning bled into afternoon as they stay cuddled together, neither of them wanting to be the first to get up. After the third time Aoba’s stomach growled, Koujaku finally let go.

“I wasn’t done yet,”Aoba griped, loosely grabbing at Koujaku’s robe.

“I’ll be back,” Koujaku promised.

Aoba groaned but let go, his arm going slack and hanging over the side of the bed. He closed to eyes to rest them, nearly dozing off again before catching the scent of burning toast. When Koujaku’s footsteps sounded as he neared, Aoba opened one eye, fully expecting barely-edible food.

Koujaku had a bowl of oatmeal for him instead.

“This... isn’t what I was expecting,” Aoba said, sitting up and taking the bowl.

“I was going to go for something more romantic, but I got distracted.”

“Too distracted to make toast? Must have been important.”

Koujaku smiled, but it was forced, a front. 

Aoba set the bowl on the nightstand, his appetite halted.

“What was it?”

“I was thinking about work,” Koujaku said, sitting next to Aoba on the bed. “And what you said about not having to live this way.”

Aoba gingerly rested his hand on Koujaku’s forearm, giving it a reassuring pat.

“Before you came along, I never considered my life being more than what it is now,” Koujaku continued. “All this time I’ve been doing what my father wants me to. And why? He considers me as nothing more than a tool. Not a family member to love, but something indebted to him by blood, something to be manipulated how he sees fit.

“I can’t keep doing this. It’s eating me alive, and it’ll only hurt us both the longer it goes on. I have to get out.”

“Do you have a plan?” Aoba asked

“Not yet,” Koujaku said, voice heavy. “Even if I resign, it’s not as though I’d be hard to find.”

“We could move,” Aoba said. “Get away from here.”

Koujaku’s brow furrowed at the suggestion. Aoba could see his gaze turn inward, considering what choices were open to them.

“Midorijima,” Koujaku said. “We’ll go back there.”

Aoba blinked. It wasn’t a bad option. The island was small and while modestly populated, it was barren in comparison to the mainland.

“Okay,” Aoba agreed. “Let’s do that. We can pack our stuff and just go first thing. We’ll be gone before anyone notices.”

Koujaku grimaced.

“It’s not that easy, Aoba.”

“Don’t tell me you’re resigning in person.”

Koujaku said nothing, but his face spoke for him instead. Ceremony and loyalty were ingrained in him, no matter his own desires. 

“Let me come with you then,” Aoba said.

“Absolutely not.”

“What if something happens?” Aoba argued. “You need someone there to back you up.”

“And that person would be you?”

“Hey, I already told you before. I’ve walked on the wild side. I can hold my own.”

Koujaku shook his head good-naturedly before shrugging in defeat. “Fine, but the second anything goes wrong, we’re out of there.”

\---

Packing was easy, waiting was not.

Monday morning was their agreed upon time. Koujaku sent out messages, made phone calls, asked those in his employ to meet that day. An important announcement, he told them. That was the reason behind the gathering. He gave no details, no explanation beyond those few words.

“What do you think will happen?” Aoba asked that night in bed. They’d both been pretending to sleep for two hours. It wasn’t working.

“I don’t know. I’ll tell my father I’m done. He’ll get mad. What comes next is... up to us, I suppose.”

“A choose your own adventure,” Aoba mused. “Maybe he’ll disown you and be done with it.”

“I wish,” Koujaku said. “He’d rather I was dead first.”

Aoba shuddered at the thought. “You don’t think he’ll attack you, do you?”

“No. He’s too old at this point─ more a figurehead than anything else. I’m the technical clan leader.”

“What about his cronies?”

“His cronies are my cronies,” Koujaku said. “And guess who treats them better?”

“Hm, I’m going to go out on a branch and guess you do.”

“We have a winner,” Koujaku said, pressing a kiss to Aoba’s temple. “They do bad things, but they’re not all bad people. Most are like me and never had a choice.”

“That must be awful for them,” Aoba said, snuggling up to Koujaku’s side.

“It is,” Koujaku said somberly. He ran his fingers idly through Aoba’s hair, toying with the ends before letting them go. 

The repetitive motion was a balm to Aoba’s nerves, quieting his mind enough to let him nod off and sleep away the scarce hours they had left under this roof. It hardly seemed like any time had passed when he woke again, not to an alarm, but to Koujaku moving beside him. The early red rays of dawn were peeking through the window, tinting Koujaku’s skin.

“Time for the big day already?” Aoba asked.

Koujaku nodded solemnly, the set of his jaw hard. The shadows beneath his eyes spoke to how little rest he’d gotten.

Their morning was spent in relative silence, though Aoba’s mind was anything but. He thought over each move he made that morning, from the washing of his hair to the making of the bed. It was a ritual at that point, a routine he repeated despite knowing he’d never do it here again. They wouldn’t be coming back to this bed, made or not.

Koujaku was equally somber in his actions, going through his suits and ties, holding one up in the mirror only to move onto the next. Aoba was less careful in his dress, picking a plain white yukata with a pearlescent finish to it. The last thing he wanted to do today was make an impression.

Koujaku’s outfit was as crisp and pressed as any he’d worn before, an oil-slick black suit with a tie not dissimilar to Aoba’s yukata.

That day there were no chauffers, no bodyguards. Nothing but a plain, dark car that easily fit the few pieces of luggage they packed. Ren and Beni sat in the backseat the entire drive, Beni listing the key points for delivering an uppercut while Ren sat quiet and contemplative. Aoba stared out the window, folding and refolding his hands nervously in his lap.

It took a moment for Aoba to register when they’d parked, his mind already in the future, playing out doomsday scenarios of all that could go wrong.

“Getting cold feet?” Koujaku asked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Nothing like that,” Aoba insisted. “I’m just ready for it to already be over.”

“You and me both,” Koujaku said. He went around to Aoba’s door and opened it up, offering a hand to help Aoba out while glancing into the backseat. “You two stay put.”

Once Aoba stood, Koujaku didn’t let go. He kept Aoba’s hand in his as they walked along a stone-laden path up to a sprawling villa. Aoba could hear the soft murmur of voices down the hall as they entered, a dozen trails of conversation held between people as they waited. 

But every conversation stopped when he and Koujaku entered the room. The silence was sudden and hushed, all eyes on them. Aoba kept his gaze ahead, focused on the end of the room. Even without being told, he knew which man was Koujaku’s father. Even in his late age, there was an intimidating air to his presence, no light in his eyes and his expression set to cool disdain.

Koujaku walked forward to the center of the room, taking Aoba with him. There was no tremble in his hand, or slouch to his shoulders. Whatever he felt inside, his exterior reflected nothing short of absolute confidence and purpose. 

“Thank you for gathering here today,” he began, looking about the room. “Doubtlessly, you’re wondering the purpose of this meeting.”

Muted murmurs agreed to the statement.

“I’d like to begin by announcing anyone in my employ is free to go. Your service has been appreciated.”

The murmurs turned confused as the attendees looked to one another for confirmation they’d heard the same thing. 

“And with that, I am hereby stepping down from my position.”

It wasn’t murmurs that greeted them then, but sharp noises of shock and disbelief. Aoba saw a flicker in the face of Koujaku’s father, a deep disgust and anger that couldn’t be hidden.

“We refuse this request,” Koujaku’s father said.

“It’s not a request.”

There was a sudden tension in the air, one that made goosebumps prickle along Aoba’s arms and his muscles contract. The nervous urge to run arose quickly, but the reassuring squeeze of Koujaku’s hand grounded him. Kept him from showing any fear or unease.

“We refuse this request,” Koujaku’s father repeated.

The squeeze of Koujaku’s hand turned nearly painful, and Aoba could sense an anger Koujaku had been keeping down. It simmered close to the surface, ready to boil over. Aoba squeezed Koujaku’s hand in return, his touch lighter, loving. He stroked his thumb over Koujaku’s knuckles, slow and repetitive.

The seconds ticked by, Aoba’s entirety attuned to Koujaku. The way he stood, the way he breathed. There was a rage Aoba had never noticed. Not malicious, not evil. But instinctual and animalistic, a base reaction Koujaku couldn’t control.

“We can go,” Aoba whispered. “No one can stop you.”

Koujaku glanced at Aoba, the hostility in his eyes being blinked away. He looked like he’d forgotten the world around him, forgotten that Aoba was there. As recognition came back to him, his lips quirked up in a smile.

“You’re right,” Koujaku said. “We’re done here.”

Koujaku turned away from his father, taking the first steps towards his freedom with Aoba at his side. 

From behind them came a shout, an order from Koujaku’s father to stop them from leaving. But no rustle of running footsteps followed, no person heeding the command. Instead there was nothing more than the shuffle of those getting to their feet, released from their jobs, happy to be without orders.

Aoba couldn’t help but laugh in relief as the outside world greeted them, the sunshine bright and the air fresh. In his white robe─ and Koujaku in his dark suit─ Aoba couldn’t help but see their resemblance to a newlywed couple. Of the start of two lives joined as one, a new beginning for both. 

\---

The ferry ride was longer than Aoba remembered, his foot impatiently tapping against the floor as they rode along the waves. No one had stopped them, but they had been followed. Those on board with them were from all walks of life, from finely-groomed to poorly-dressed, tattoos either peeking from beneath sleeves or emblazoned on bare arms.

The one thing that united all these men was their loyalty to Koujaku.

Not all bad people, Aoba remembered Koujaku saying of his men. Their lives had been dictated with the same iron fist as Koujaku’s father, their agency extinguished and replaced by demands. Now they were without rules, yet still they wanted to follow Koujaku.

“Looks like you already have a new family,” Aoba teased.

“Our family,” Koujaku corrected.

Aoba smiled, though there was a bittersweet ache to his heart. For so long family had been nothing but his granny and Ren. It had shrunk quickly after granny’s passing, then grown so much, He didn’t know these men, but despite their outward appearance, he invested the same trust in them that Koujaku did. 

They dispersed once they docked at Midorijima, each man exchanging excited thanks with Koujaku, their grins wide and appreciative as they promised to keep in touch. By the end Koujaku’stoic exterior had waned, his own smile matching theirs as they parted. The anger Aoba had witnessed had all but evaporated, replaced by a light and unburdened air.

The inn they found to stay at was cozy and small, the owners elderly and welcoming. Koujaku unabashedly booked the honeymoon suite, his arm around Aoba as he did so. Aoba blushed the entire time, the embarrassment shining outward while inside his pulse fluttered with a sweet joy.

For the first time since granny’s passing, the all enveloping sadness was truly lifting. It had clung to his days in varying degrees for too long. From a crushing weight that consumed his thoughts, to times where it hung back in his periphery, waiting for a moment to jump in the instant let his mind wander.

The first thing Aoba did when they reached their room was flop onto the bed, sighing with contentment. The sheets were freshly laundered and carried a faintly floral scent, and the room itself showcasing a fresh bouquet of flowers on the nightstand. Koujaku joined him not a moment later, his smile lopsided and loving as he reached out to stroke Aoba’s cheek. 

When Koujaku leaned in, the kiss he gave Aoba was chaste and adoring. Worry and tension was a thing of the past, both of their previous lives nothing more than history now.

\---

Starting a new life wasn’t the overnight process Aoba imagined it to be. There was no sudden change in his thinking, no dissolution of all sadness. But the shift was gradual, each day brighter than the next, the grief remaining but lessening. The hours he’d spent mourning alone before were slowly replaced. It wasn’t that the crying fits and existential dread left, but now Koujaku was at his side to see him through.

Together they found new ways to occupy their time. Not that each moment was particularly productive. Much of their time was spent in bed, either tangled beneath the sheets or vegging out as they watched TV. Most of what they watched was mindless and domestic, from designing shows to home improvement. Each couple was impossibly perfect and quirky, half the time their livelihoods sounding laughably fake.

“I can’t believe those two beat us to laser-cut gemstone coaster wedding favors,” Koujaku said. “Another niche market filled.”

“First the knit booties for puppies, and now this,” Aoba sighed dramatically. “Next thing you know someone’s going to get a headstart on being singing weathercaster before we can.”

“I thought we decided the singing weathercaster gig would blow our cover,” Koujaku said.

“True, but we could wear disguises,” Aoba joked, taking the remote and flipping the channel to the news station.

There was no weather being forecast─ sung or not─ but something entirely more interesting. A banner scrolling across the bottom announced breaking news, the anchor looking not entirely prepared as she read from a teleprompter. 

The report was short and lacking in finer details, but what information was given was all they needed.

A branch of the yakuza located on the mainland had faced a crackdown, its higher ups caught using anonymous tips from previous members. The report that came next didn’t register with Aoba. He was too busy looking to Koujaku, the both of them sharing a knowing look.

The relief that surged through Aoba brought him another realization. 

For all their big talk of starting a new life without fear, they’d still been living in the shadows, spending their days in the same hotel room. Watching other people make new starts instead of their own.

“Koujaku,” Aoba said thoughtfully. “What kind of a new job do you actually want?”

“Hair stylist,” Koujaku responded, not missing a beat.

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

“Honestly?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? There’s an artistry to it, and it would give me more excuses to touch your hair.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before,” Aoba said. 

“You’ve got me there,” Koujaku said, smiling as he reached out a hand to run through Aoba’s hair.

While the faded ends and shell-white strands remained, the new outgrowth was beginning to show its original color, a blue as vivid and alive as the sky outside their window. A sky that the two of them would be looking forward to seeing more now that they were ready to truly begin their new path together.


End file.
